


The Rebel Kind

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-08
Updated: 2007-02-08
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: Rebecca would only stare at them silently when they asked her questions.





	The Rebel Kind

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a little bit AU, but for the future. It's a it could happen but never will AU. A little bit of stuff added into the first season, but nothing important-like. Spoilers for Skin and Nightshifter. Title from a 1983 compilation of garage bands by Sounds Interesting Records. Unbeta'd.  
>  **Remix:** [here](http://community.livejournal.com/remix_redux/1912.html). It's awesome, read it!

Sam took off a week after Jessica's death. He told them he couldn't handle it, couldn't stick around, not with her gone. They all nodded and watched him ride off with his brother, a guy they had known existed but knew nothing else of. They knew his name was Dean and they knew Sam adored him, thought he could save the world, but Sam never said anything about him.

It took awhile for them to adjust to Jess and Sam not being there. It took a while for the tears to stop and for them to stop making plans thinking with their little group's numbers 2 higher. It took a while, but it happened.

Then Zack's fiancé was killed and a little while later Rebecca was beat up bad. She called later, said everything was fine, Zack was getting let off, it hadn't been him, just like they'd all known.

Later, the fact that Dean Winchester, Sam's brother, had been killed in St Louis and the cops were saying he had been the one to kill Zack's fiancé and all the other women would trickle down to them. Rebecca would only stare at them silently when they asked her questions.

No one ever emailed Sam about it.

After a while, Sam started to respond slower. It wasn't that he didn't care – they could see he did, always asked after people they didn't mention, always willing to help out if they needed it, even if he was a 1,000 miles away.

When a friend of theirs had come down with cancer seven months after he'd left, Sam had called them up. Said he was sorry, asked what he could do. He'd talked to Craig every week for the three months it took for the aggressive cancer to finally put Craig into a coma.

It had been nearly a year and a half when Sam's face first appeared on the TV screen with the word "wanted" scrawled across the top, the words "dead or alive" pretty much implied. It was the old Stanford ID picture they'd all made fun of him for, a horrible shot that made him look stoned and drunk and ugly all in one go. Next to him was a mugshot of his brother, his dead brother. Rebecca had dropped a beer bottle to the floor, shattering it, when the breaking news flashed across the screen at the bar.

No one questioned her, but the look in her eyes told them enough. There was something wrong with what was being reported.

Sam didn't contact any of them again. Rebecca would tell them he said hi, every now and then, and once Diana had asked how she'd known. She'd gotten a weird look on her face, a half grin that was almost feral, and told them she had her ways.

They didn't ask again.

They slowly stopped talking about him, until the subject became nearly taboo. Rebecca bounced around the country for a while and they watched her worriedly from their homes in California where they lived with their husbands and wives, 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Finally she came back out to California and went to work for an agency that was designing something to do with stopping identity fraud.

A few years after they'd seen Sam's picture on the tv screen, Rebecca had emailed them all a photo from a camping trip back in her second year at Stanford. There'd been an encryption key embedded in the email and none of them were stupid enough to not get the hint.

The real picture was of Sam and his brother, clearly alive, and the picture was recent. They were both leaning against the hood of a black road condition Impala, the plates just out of frame. They were laughing. Sam looked happy. Despite Jess, despite whatever horrible things Sam had never told them about their childhood, despite what had happened in St Louis and the year their face had been all over the news, they were happy.

The picture title was a date. There was no location. It was in the Midwest somewhere, James said, but couldn't say where.

Rebecca said she'd taken it, when she'd met Sam and Dean to give them something. She didn't volunteer what, and they never asked.

Ten years later Rebecca Warren was arrested for document and identity fraud. It was all over the news – passports, federal identification, birth certificates, social security numbers. Apparently she'd done it all. Her friends from college had called each other up, questions flying, answers all coming back to the same place: Sam and his brother.

The next night was the story of how the now-infamous Winchester Brother's had broken her out, the three of them disappearing into the dark.

  



End file.
